"It is Pedro, doña. He tried to ride that horse Teddy, and it threw him. Before it could kill him, the Americano jumped in and saved his life."
"What American?" she asked quickly: but already she knew by the swift beating of her heart.
"Señor Muir; the devil fly away with him," replied the boy loyally.
Already his mistress was descending toward him with her sure stride, Don Manuel and his suit forgotten in the interest of this new development of the feud. She made the boy go over the tale minutely, asking questions sometimes when she wanted fuller details.
Meanwhile, Manuel Pesquiera waited, fuming. Most certainly this fellow Gordon was very much in the way. Jealousy began to add its sting to the other reasons good for hastening his revenge.
When Valencia turned again to her cousin her eyes were starry.
"He is brave—this man. Is he not?" she cried.
It happened that Don Manuel, too, was a rider in a thousand. He thought that Fate had been unkind to refuse him this chance his enemy had found. But Pesquiera was a gentleman, and his answer came ungrudgingly:
"My cousin, he is a hero—as I told you before."
"But you think him base," she cried quickly.